He Lies In Wait 1

Well readers, I've said before I began as a horror writer, so here's my entry into the Halloween story contest. This piece is a culmination of some of my hardest, filthiest kinks or fevered fantasies and is one of the most bizarre pieces I've ever written. I felt I had to get it out.

I hope, in turn, you get something out of it.

He Lies in Wait

The copier whirred and beeped, leaves of hot-to-the-touch paper sliding from the mechanism and falling gracefully in the tray. A perfect example of mechanization functioning without perturbance.

Unlike the woman standing there, staring at it in a daze.

Every so often, she had to take the finished stack and place them aside in order to start the next round, but other than that, she moved little. Her body hung slack in place, almost as if she were being pulled downward by a great weight.

The mundanity of the task allowed her to drift off, and no one noticed. It was just business as usual to them. The machine kept producing.

Each time she had to move to collect her copies and stack them neatly, she flinched. They were there. No one else could see them, as she'd learned long ago, but she could. See and feel,

hear

. Sometimes they were thin and pretty, like jewelry. Not now. Right then they were thick and hideous, cold, heavy, and they created a merciless din no one could ever hear; if anyone ever did, they

never

commented on it.

Chains. Clanking, rusted lengths of twisted metal far uglier than the chains of greed worn by one Jacob Marley. They encircled her ankles and wrists, seamless, and one extremely thick noose that should (by all accounts) be impossible in steel hung from her neck as a looming threat.

The phantasmal binds kept her trapped, her gait impaired. The length from the noose trailed from her body and slithered all over the floor. Her coworkers expressed concern when she seemed to trip over nothing. As always, she awkwardly laughed them off and pretended it was all fine, just fine. Long day and all that. Nevermind that this happened like clockwork, every few weeks, when the pressure became too much.

Not her damn job or life, not even that she didn't have a boyfriend or anything...

The chains were always there, but they were manageable most of the time. They stayed small and thin, with no tail. It was only when they thickened and began to drag her down that she knew.

It was tonight. When she got home, the 'ritual' would begin.

Even as Elenore Lee punched out, gathered her things, and left work for the weekend, her mind was elsewhere. She trembled in fear, yet...

anticipation

as well. Her heart began to pound as the spectral chain led her out the door, onto the darkened streets. Decorations hung cheerfully or spookily on various establishments as she passed, and she vaguely remembered the holiday weekend.

That's right! Tomorrow was October 30th, or "Devil's Night", and Sunday was Halloween.

A time, it was believed, where spirits and monsters could slip through the cracks of the planes and come to Earth to wreak havoc, possessing, pillaging, murdering and devouring human lives.

How fitting.

Elenore drove home, her bond preceding the journey. As she followed it the length mysteriously retracted, never leaving a trail behind. It only shortened, until the moment she arrived at the place where her energy had been stamped. It was there

he'd

be waiting, as always. It did not matter where she lived or when she moved. There was no escape.

In time, she'd grown used to this. Even though it was unbearable vile agony that threatened to pitch her into an abyss of existential dread. Nothing she saw or felt in the next several hours was truly possible in reality, yet the experiences lived in her head, unfaded, for years. She always emerged unscarred, unbroken, but not

unchanged

.

And she never forgot.

His first visit had been a little more than a decade ago in her twenties, and though it had been explained to her then, it was still difficult to wrap her head around it now. Elenore's existence, apparently, was one that called forth an entity from the pits of Hell that stood apart even from his own brethren. He only appeared to the truly cursed- those made to drag a burden unbearable to most others, their souls not ever freed in death.

The reason for this? 'Balance', apparently. Light and dark existed together, and the universe needed a way to keep each of them in check... even if that meant offloading the excess into human souls. Some people radiated heavenly essences that drew others near. Others collected misfortunes like trinkets. Elenore was one of these "failsafes", and

he

was tasked with her 'keeping'.

Soon enough, she arrived at her building and parked her car in the garage.

Pausing to collect herself and calm her pounding heart, she remained frozen in the driver's seat for a minute. It was only one night. Just until the break of dawn tomorrow, and then it would be over. As always.

Out of the car then, into the building, up an elevator and out onto the fourteenth floor, she followed the chain around her throat, its length shrinking the closer she got. It only acted as a warning, and was reeled into the noose like fishing line as her doom drew her in. Her key came out, her hand shaking.

The door of apartment 1408 at 217 Stanley Street loomed just ahead, and Elenore saw the links drawing taut as she reluctantly approached. Each step dragged the bonds and tighter, harder, toward her fate. They were parallel to the floor by the time she was ready to unlock, and when the small task was done, the chain yanked up

through

the solid barrier.

The second she even began to crack the door it flew open, and the noose around her neck snapped tight. She was yanked roughly forward- right off her feet onto an unforgiving slab of a chest. The door slammed and locked behind her. Elenore trembled, barely daring to look up. She knew who- or

what

- she'd see.

Inhumanly tall. Built like a fucking brick shithouse. Blunt, ox-like features (one of those shaggy ones) complete with horns. Long, lank, black locks falling past his broad shoulders, chest and body furred with hair and slickened by sweat. She knew he wore nothing but a faded, stiff leather loincloth, one that would hardly contain the instrument of his pleasure and her terror; the damn thing was proportional and thicker than a baseball bat. More like three bound together. His skin was a marbled blue-gray, and he smelled of brimstone and smoke.

Years ago it had turned her stomach, but she'd since become accustomed to it and the odor was branded on her mind like his own personal cologne.

He'd been waiting. As always. A rush of heat collected in her belly, and her face reddened. She was actually blushing!

"Elenore..." His voice was harsh, guttural; gravel scraping together, deep enough to cause earthquakes. She did not just hear it, she

felt

it to the marrow. "I have come."

She gulped as this bestial male hoisted her by the throat with one meaty arm. Now she was in his hands, the chain's length vanished, leaving just a collar and cuffs to mark her role in this ritual. Elenore choked from the pressure on her throat as he held her off the ground, but she knew he would never let her strangle to death. Oh

no

. What would be the fun in that? How would they ever finish their courtship?

Growling a laugh, he raised his other hand, nails ragged but sharp. It took no effort to sink those unkempt, claw-like tips into her modest business casual attire and rip it straight through. The stiff fabric of her jacket was rent, popping and hissing as it gave way. The once-pristine white blouse had its buttons busted and wound up in tatters before slipping down her arms and dropping to the floor. Skirt was shucked and forgotten, shoes and hosiery disposed of in a blink. Her bra was snapped apart easily, her panties eradicated- and finally she wore nothing but her bonds.

The demon sneered, bringing his victim more fully against his bulk. Now she was naked, he delved his slimy, lithe tongue past her lips, and his thick fingers breached her tiny mortal cunt.

Elenore shrieked, the noise briefly escaping before every vocalization she could have made was smothered by the salt-copper taste of him. It was always the strangest kiss she'd ever had, but it ignited her instantly and she gave in, wrapping her arms around his neck.

The room blurred as he moved quickly to what would have been her couch, had the room not been changed to resemble an unholy nightmare of 'underworld chic'. Faint sniggers radiated from the licking flickering shadows. Ruby-red, luminous fire consumed the walls. Pentagrams filled with infernal writing and symbols were placed in key locations, and what was a sofa that morning was then more an altar of obsidian, upon which she was immediately thrown and restrained.

The demon continued his assault, his kiss ravenous and demanding, his fingers pumping, stretching, stroking,

precise

. From the crevices between flames and the dark gaps within the links of her chains, the hands of oil-black creatures crept, securing her limbs to the sacrificial bier while their cackles grew stronger. When the man-

creature

- lifted his head even briefly from stealing the breath out of her lungs, she gasped

"How many this time?" And he immediately replied:

"As many as it takes."

This son of sulfur and heat had a job to do. She was his charge, driven into his path by the forces of wicked destiny. Neither could escape the events to follow, but you'd not hear him complain. Elenore was a tasty morsel.

His lip curled up in a smirk.

Taking possession of the woman's mouth greedily, he slid his tongue along hers flirtatiously. Lulling her into a sense of seduction...

Until he seized her lip between his teeth, biting down viciously enough to draw blood.

The pain and punctured flesh cause her to scream, but so did the ruthless pounding of her pussy; the thumb of this giant stroking her tender clit with well-versed expertise, bringing her to a savage climax. The indescribable blend of sensations made Elenore dizzy. Only

he

could give her both torture and passion in such extremes, and make her crave his talents...

The tightness of her cunt was eager and grasping on his fingers as she came, muscles squeezing and body bowing. The beast laughed, drawing back. Blood showed on her face until he licked the wounds, taking all trace of his bite with it.

Flushed with arousal, Elenore lay dazed and trapped, and the mocking voices of the lesser demons trilled. With sharp little laughs, their tiny hands and tiny claws emerged from the shadows and bit into her skin from scalp to the soles of her feet. Bee-sting needles piercing every square inch, blood drawn and lapped by their greedy mouths, nipples teased to aching peaks.

Her knees were up, thighs spread painfully wide, fuck-hole unprotected.

"The veil separating our worlds grows thin, Elenore," her personal demon rumbled. "Do you understand what that means?" The fiend waited for her answer, tense, entirely primed to take what he could from this helpless mortal.

The woman gasped, stiffening when she remembered the very thing she'd reminded herself of while leaving work! All Hallows Eve, Samhain, Halloween- a sacred day celebrating autumnal harvests and paying tribute to the dead. Ghosts and unholy beings were said to roam the world. You dressed up, hidden in monster's guise to escape the restless dead. Or you could tithe them with treats, lest you suffer their tricks. You even carved gourds into lanterns and attempted to make contact with the other side while the barrier was thin- all 'traditions' or beliefs going back hundreds of years.

Inwardly, the mortal tutted. No matter how "advanced" society got, history couldn't just be erased, nor could the strange-ass dark truths of the world. She was chained to a demonic altar for fuck's sake, and had come to know years prior that there really were otherworldly presences among them.

Quiet, "shy", prim little Elenore was about to be fucked by one.

"Normally," she croaked, "you have to be summoned to me, and the power only lasts as long as I'm pent up- frustrated and choking on my own thoughts. After you tap out the tank, it's over and you're gone."

Her voice grew stronger as she spoke, and the beast stepped forward eagerly, soaking up her words.

"Yes," he hissed, the sound of it like a fissure cracking open in solid rock.

"This time..." she groaned, trembling all over. Gooseflesh erupted and the human seethed through her teeth: "This time, the forces keeping you out are too weak. You came to the summons, but you cannot be forced to relent and go back until All Saints Day!"

"

YES

!" He roared, triumphant and elated. Even punched the air, the way he'd seen many mortals do in sweet exultation! The demon couldn't help cracking a grin.

Grotesque as he was, Elenore found him irresistibly boyish in that moment. There was a proud, stately beauty in his features few would ever see, but the woman had learned his face and body well over the years, and appreciated his unique appearance. Her heart thumped as she looked him up and down, its beat rolling while her stomach filled with butterflies. The ritual would not end when the sun came up on October 30th. It wouldn't even be half over.

Fucking hell. And that was a

literal

curse, because for roughly the next sixty hours...

"YOU BELONG TO ME," he boomed, diving on her trapped form.

The first part of his spell had been cast and completed, with her inaugural orgasm acting as the catalyst. Nothing could breach the interdimensional space he'd opened to contain her apartment. On Earth, her door would lead to an empty dwelling, as if Elenore hadn't returned home. Its metaphysical copy, with her in it, existed in a plane between the two worlds- his slice of Hell, and her actual flat- only a layer or two separate.

This being's name was uttered by precious few souls in all the mortal realm. Elenore cried it out when the truth of her predicament finally struck.

"Murtocke!"

Fire and bone, it was there in her voice. She was

excited

.

Without wasting another syllable, he bent down and shoved his tongue inside her warm slit. At the same time, a broad, callused palm ground against the split of her labia, catching her swollen clitoris with firm pressure. Withdrawing from her pussy long enough to lave her ass and back, he shoved his fingers in her there too, conquering her sensitive, intimate holes for himself. It never grew boring!

The entity laughed harshly against his captive's pussy, delirious with anticipation. Almost giddy, and wasn't that just novel for an infernal immortal? He pushed his forked tongue back inside, filling the aching hollow in her body with an appendage bigger than most mortal cocks. None too lightly, either. The sacred depths of her betrayed the truth of her entire inner being, and it belonged to

him

- Murtocke the Depraved. Through that channel of muscle he found her soul and tasted it with relish.

Elenore's head spun as the huge, slug-like

thing

pressed hard and insistently up and in, his fingers in her asshole. The dozens or hundreds of unseen, lesser demons swarmed her body like lice and were themselves thrusting their tiny pricks against her as they bit, scratched and sucked at her. At least ten were at her lips, molding the skin around their cocks while they thrust, ejaculating into her mouth with glee. Random bursts of bitter, salt, tart and sour hit her tongue as the fiends gratified and emptied themselves, replaced by others as fast as they could blow.

Two or three of them each seemed to be actually fucking her nipples, penetrating the tiny ducts until they came, and the endless supply of wily bastards resulted in deposits of semen that gushed (in parts thick, in others watery and rank) from them so she appeared to be lactating.

And the

sensation

- it was bizarre, practically indescribable. Tapping pressure and slight twanging pains shot through her nipples as they were ravaged by scores of fingertip-sized fiends, but their hot, scaly bodies and roving hands stimulated her too, along with the thrusting.

As much as they hurt or abused her, they stroked her,

pleasured

her. Elenore found herself at the mercy of the hellish Lilliputians and was mortified to find herself mounting in desire. Excitement and shame mixed, and she pushed her tongue out of her mouth, careful not to trap any of her miniscule tormentors beneath it. She let them attack that with their cocks and fluids too.

Murtocke relentlessly fingered and fucked her, and with the second climax forced from this twisted woman's body, the next summoning came. The splintered shadow-imps were numerous and rambunctious, but the swarm would use her until it was spent and go back to rest. It was easier to let the tiny ones work their tricks and enjoy the woman first, rather than toss them the scraps after she'd been fucked into oblivion. It was a good deal for both sides: More for them to soil with spend and piss, nearly unnoticed by their human feast, and it actually aided their bigger brothers in the end.

Elenore reared back and screamed when her cunt convulsed again on the tongue inside her, and her lover ferociously ground her clit with his palm until it was over. The swarm descended in full as their benefactor left her naked wet primed pussy vulnerable for them.

The huge, lumbering infernal crowed in his hideous bass and left her there, stepping back to watch the show.

Elenore lifted her head with difficulty, but gasped when she saw potentially

thousands

of distortions in the air as shadows covered her entire body; they all rushed downward, toward her pulsating cunt. Another scream tore out of her mouth as something began to enter her, some squirming mass like an invasion of insects, filling her pussy far past the brim. Oh fuck, so weird!

The entire goddamn population of shadow-fiends rushed to crawl up her cooch and fuck from the inside, using their entire bodies to penetrate her even as their miniscule shafts found grooves in her flesh to use for pleasure. They packed into her anus and twat until her belly swelled up, her body bloating inhumanly. Some remained on the surface, using her labia, others still flooding her nipples with their brew. One of them had gleefully taken claim of her urethra and found a friend to split it with. Several more- it was impossible to tell how many- were pounding away at her goddamn

clit

with all the delicate folds of skin and space under its hood.

It was a full penetration that played every one of her most tender nerves, and the constant motion was just as good as any high-quality vibrator. They buzzed her clit and g-spot (plus a few more she didn't even know were in there,

fuck!

) so well her teeth rattled.

Through it all, the much,

much

larger beast looked on, stroking his enormous, uncovered cock in his hand. His eyes glittered intently as he watched Elenore receive a full-body ravaging very few mortals could ever even dream up, much less experience. The swarm surged into and out of her holes like a living wave as the imps entered, fucked, came, released, and left, disappearing back into the underworld satisfied. Each one squirted the equivalent of a drop or two of Murtocke's own cum or piss, but collected? It was a churning, sloppy river, and when they all left, it would provide the perfect medium for his own ruthless claiming of the woman's filthy cunt.

Not 'filthy' because they'd polluted her, no. 'Filthy' because she was screaming ecstatically again, the diminutive demons' constant, humming stimulation and extreme penetration driving her into a series of orgasms she couldn't stop. She

hemorrhaged

climaxes, ravished by easily fifty thousand penises all at once. The cum flooded out, staining the altar with copious fluids from both woman and swarm. Her lubricants, their spunk...